


Ghosts and Gravedirt

by ignore_the_fire_im_fine



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: (Ooooh), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, But Charlie is a sweetheart, Complicated Relationships, Drug Use, Everyone is older now, Family Dynamics, Gangs, Intrigue, Not always canon compliant, Not that much angst I hope but it is there, Probably pretty character driven, and an asshole, he's just doing his best, legacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignore_the_fire_im_fine/pseuds/ignore_the_fire_im_fine
Summary: After the failed assassination of Oswald Moseley, Thomas Shelby disappeared into the night on a white horse, leaving Michael to take over the Shelby Company Limited. Before shutting herself up in her house with no one but the spirits for company, Polly sent Charlie Shelby to a boarding school in the country with the hope that he'd be able to leave behind the misfortunes of his bloodline. Eight years later, with no explanation, she calls him back to Birmingham. He returns to find a city full of hazy memories and a family torn apart. Charlie must find his place in this dangerous and unfamiliar world, and come to terms with the ghosts of his grim legacy.
Relationships: Charlie Shelby & Ada Shelby, Charlie Shelby & Gina Gray, Charlie Shelby & Karl Thorne, Charlie Shelby & Michael Gray, Charlie Shelby & Polly Gray, Charlie Shelby & The Shelby Family, Charlie Shelby & Tommy Shelby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! Thanks for much for reading! A quick disclaimer, I don't work too hard to stay strictly canon compliant, so there are probably some minor (potentially major) inaccuracies. If anything, the characters' ages are probably off by a few years. If there are any mistakes they're probably ones I've chosen to ignore for the sake of the story, so sorry if that bothers you. Anyhow, hope you enjoy :3

When Polly wrote Charlie to tell him that he’d be returning to Birmingham, he knew something was wrong. He still had to finish the term, and he had two years of school after that. But that wasn’t the biggest issue. Polly had always made it clear that if she had her way, Charlie Shelby would never set foot in that city again. When she’d first sent him to the academy years and years ago, he’d written her every day, begging to come home. And every single time she said no. But there it was, in Polly’s handwriting and on her stationary:

You’re coming back to Birmingham. I’ve sent a train ticket and contacted your headmaster. He’ll take you to the station. I’ll explain when you get here.

Love,

Pol

So the next morning Charlie was on a train, with nothing but his coat and a suitcase he’d done his best to cram the last eight years of his life into. The headmaster had been just as confused as Charlie, but he’d driven him to the station and said goodbye. Charlie was reminded of the morning he’d arrived in Nottinghill, snot-nosed and crying for home. The same old man had met him there, and taken him to the school he now abandoned. It was amazing how much everything had changed since then. The academy was the closest thing he had to a home. Birmingham was just a bundle of hazy memories. Polly was there, but he hadn’t seen her for so long. Even through her letters, she’d become distant. Talking about ghosts and Australia and other nonsense. And his dad… Well, fuck him. Charlie leaned against the uncomfortable wooden seat. As the train pulled out something in his stomach clenched, but something else released. A tiny pinch that had been there for years, tightening. Because even if Nottinghill was his home, he'd be lying if he said there weren't nights when he had to smother the urge to pack a bag, climb the gates and disappear. He'd been uneasy there, like a man spread out on the desert sand, waiting patiently for the vultures to come and peck out his eyes. Charlie screwed his eyes shut and did his best to ignore that happy feeling, and fell into a restless sleep.

***

He woke up to the screech of a whistle and the smell of horse shit. The people around him were on their feet, grabbing their luggage, shoving each other out of the way with an unwarranted sense of urgency. He stood up and pushed his way into the crowd, then let the stream of people carry him and his bag out onto the platform. The smell got worse, mixing with smoke and piss and that indescribable factory stink. Charlie blinked into the hazy afternoon light. He scanned the crowded platform, but Polly was nowhere to be seen. Anyhow, he barely remembered what she looked like. He could recall brown hair, dark eyes, and the soft swish of a fur coat, but it had been a while. Charlie wasn’t sure she’d recognize him, either. He’d grown out of his chubby cheeks, and his hair had darkened to a chocolate brown. He was tallish and thinnish, with pale eyes and a sharp, somber look to him.

As Charlie contemplated his predicament, his eyes fell on a boy a few years older than him in a nice suit and cap, holding a sign with Charles Shelby across the front. He snorted. As if he was a movie star. He went over to him, and tried to figure out who exactly they’d sent to pick him up. If he was being honest, he was disappointed that Polly hadn’t come. The boy noticed him staring and stared back.

“You Charlie?” he asked. A cigarette hung out of his mouth, and it jumped around as he spoke. The boy was pale and dark haired, with a sickly look to him.

He nodded. “Who are you?”

The boy stuck out his hand. “I’m Karl. I’m your cousin. Nice to meet you.”

Charlie shook it. So this was Karl. Polly wrote about him, sometimes. All he knew about his cousin was that he turned nineteen a few months ago, and that his Aunt Ada had been worried about him. Whatever that meant. “Where’s Polly?”

“They sent me to get you,” Karl said. “Haven’t seen Polly in ages. Are you two in touch or something?”

Charlie shrugged. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Karl took a long drag and blew the smoke into the air over Charlie’s head. He coughed. “You know. Michael and all them.”

“Michael Gray? Polly’s son?” Karl nodded. “I thought he was dead.” Polly would send pages and pages about how she missed her son, how he should’ve listened to her and gone to Australia, how she could feel his spirit walking up and down the lane outside her house, tormenting her.

Karl raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Jesus, Polly really did go mental, didn’t she? Thought those were just rumors, but it does seem to run in the family, doesn’t it? Michael’s very much alive. We’re going to see him now, actually. Do yourself a favor and forget anything that old bat told you.”

Charlie ground his teeth together. He wanted to rip the cigarette from between his cousin’s teeth. “Let’s just go.”

“Right.” Karl spat out his cigarette and ground the butt into the concrete. “Right this way.”

Charlie followed his cousin off the platform and into the grimy bustle of Birmingham, where a sleek black automobile awaited them. Karl hopped in behind the steering wheel and patted the seat beside him. Charlie put his hand on the door handle, but before he opened it he could hear the faintest voice behind him, calling his name. He turned, and for a moment he swore he saw an old woman with dark hair and wild eyes, wrapped in a tattered fur coat, staring straight at him. But when he blinked, she disappeared. Charlie wrapped his coat tighter around him and climbed into the car.


	2. A Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after arriving in Birmingham, Charlie becomes acquainted with his relatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! Chapter 2! Sorry if 1 was a bit short. I do plan to keep the chapters coming though, so don't worry. Enjoy!

The two cousins drove in silence till they reached a somber row of townhouses in the heart of the city. Karl parked the car and hopped out, Charlie in tow. He was feeling a little ill from all the factory fumes, and what he’d seen of the city had left him feeling uneasy. Angry-eyed people everywhere, yelling and shoving and glowering at Karl’s expensive car, and the two twats inside it. There’d been half-naked children panhandling at every corner, right beside girls in sloppy makeup and too-small dresses, calling out at everyone who passed by. Polly had always told him that the city was an awful place, but he’d imagined the exciting kind of awful, gunfights and gangsters, and… Prostitutes, yes, but not those girls, with their boney faces and sad, faraway eyes. 

“Hurry up!” Karl shouted from the front steps of one of the townhouses. Charlie had paused in the middle of the road, lost in his head. He hurried to join Karl, and gave the house a lookover. 

“I thought we were rich,” he said. The house was made of dirty brick. The windows were dirty, and the roof was missing shingles.

“Fuck off,” Karl said. “We are rich. It’s just, headquarters need to be subtle, yeah?” He shoved a key in the lock and opened the door. The inside looked like any grandmother’s house. Dawdy wallpaper, shabby furniture, a cabinet full of chipped china. Karl led him up a creaking staircase and through a pair of double doors. “This is where the action is,” Karl said, grinning.

The room was full of men rushing around, scribbling on notepads, writing on chalkboards, arguing with each other. Charlie looked at one of the chalkboards. It was covered in the names of racehorses “You all still run a betting shop?’ he asked Karl.

“Yeah,” he said, “So?”

“Nothing,” Charlie said. “I just thought that, when I was around, the company had moved past fixing races.” He smiled as Karl clenched his jaw. “I guess you’ve all fallen on hard times.”

Karl narrowed his eyes. “And what do you know about the company, Charlie boy? Last I heard, you spent the last eight years learning arithmetic in schoolboy shorts. Don’t think you can walk in here and say whatever you want, just because your crackpot father used to be someone. So don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

Charlie wondered what exactly would happen to him if he broke Karl’s nose. Before he could finish weighing his options, someone stepped between them.

“For the last time, Karl, stop picking fights with the bookies-” the man stopped short when he looked Charlie in the face. “You’re Charlie?”

He nodded. The man was taller than him, and muscular. He had curly brown hair and freckles, which made him look younger than his stature suggested. He looked familiar.

“You look just like Tommy,” the man said in a faraway voice. “Like Grace, too. But mostly like Tommy.”

“Does he have his mummy’s eyes?” Karl asked in a sing-song voice. He spat on the ground “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What were you two fighting about?” the man asked. “You’re cousins. You should get along.”

“Nothing,” they said at the same time. 

He rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Come along, Charlie, Michael wants to see you. Fuck off, Karl.”

“Fine. Have fun, Charlie boy.” Karl disappeared into the crowd.

“Sorry about him. Hasn’t had his cap a year, and he already considers himself the company’s golden boy. Poor Ada.”

“Who are you?” Charlie asked. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“I’m Finn. Your uncle,” he said. “I used to look after you, ages ago.”

He remembered that. Finn would take him around town on his shoulders, take him to throw rocks in the Cut. When they moved to the big house he didn’t see him as often. “Oh,” he said.

“We should go,” Finn said, pulling his cap down over his eyes. “Michael’s going to shit bricks if we make him wait any longer.”

Finn led him to a door off the main room. He knocked once, and someone, presumably Michael, yelled “Come in!” He opened the door, and they stepped in an office. It was small and dark. There was just room for one desk and a chair. Behind the desk sat a tired-looking man in a well pressed suit. A blonde woman stood next to him, her arms crossed. She was pretty, Charlie thought. She had on the sort of makeup movie stars wore, and big brown eyes. Then he realized that she was probably his cousin or his aunt or something, and his stomach turned. 

“You’re Charlie?” the tired man said. 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Finally. I’m Michael,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“Some things, yeah.”

“Like what?”

That you’re an evil spirit who torments your mother. “You wanted me to come here.”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t know why.”

“That’s also true.” Michael opened a drawer and took out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. He poured the drink. The blonde woman took one, Michael the other. “Do you drink, Charlie?”

“Not really.” Once he and his friends had gotten drunk on some stolen communion wine. The priest had beat them till their bruises had bruises. 

“Now’s an excellent time to start. Help yourself.” Charlie picked up the glass and took a sip. It burned his lips and made his eyes water. Michael watched him closely. He had eyes like a crow. “How was boarding school, Charlie?”

“Fine.” He took another sip of whiskey. He couldn’t understand why anyone liked this stuff, it was like drinking rat poison.

Michael laughed. “You don’t have to lie. My mother was out of line, sending you there. Drink,” he said, eyeing the amber liquid still sloshing about in Charlie’s glass. Charlie looked at Michael, then at Finn. His uncle kept his eyes on the ground. He tipped back his head polished off the drink. “Attaboy.”

“I didn’t really mind boarding school,” Charlie said. Michael poured him another drink, and he took it. He was feeling warm now, and it was nice to have something to do with his hands. “Where is Polly, by the way?”

“With her ghosts,” Michael said. For a moment, his pleasant features were twisted by spite, marred by lines that had been hidden till then. But then the shadow passed, his face smoothed, and he was smiling again. “Don’t mind her. We’re just glad to have you back. Shelbys belong here.”

Charlie polished off his second drink and wiped his mouth. He was feeling pretty good now. “But you aren’t a Shelby, are you? Michael Gray, isn’t it?”

Behind him, Finn suppressed a laugh. Michael’s mouth pressed into a thin line. The blonde woman tapped her long red nails on her glass and stared at him. He’d never seen brown eyes so cold. “I’ve got the blood, same as you,” Michael said. “Now why don’t we get to the matter at hand? It’s time you took your place in the family business.”

“Bookmaking?”

“The Shelby Company Limited. What do you say?”

“Why now? If me being at school was such an injustice, why’re you only getting me now?” Through the haze of the whiskey, something about this felt wrong.  
“I’m a busy man, Charlie. Besides, there’s no room for little boys here. But you’re a man now. You’re fifteen.”

“Sixteen.”

“Whatever. You’re ready now, and it’s time. What do you say?” Michael poured three more drinks.

Charlie thought about Polly, and Karl, and the school that already seemed so far away. He thought about the smell of shit in the air and the boney-faced whores and his handsome cousin with so much hatred hidden behind his white smile. But mostly he thought about his father, and the white horse he’d rode off on. The stupid bastard. His presence hung heavy in the dark room, like one of Polly’s ghosts. But in the end it was all too much to think about, so he pushed it all away, grabbed the glass, and downed the whiskey in one gulp. By now, he understood why people liked it. It had lost some of its burn.

Michael and the woman smiled, and drank their whiskey.

“Welcome back, Charlie,” she said in a thick American accent. 

***  
After the meeting, Finn took him to a room. It was cramped and drafty, but it had a bed, a trunk, and a window. Charlie was reminded of his dorm back at Nottinghill. He put his suitcase on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The mattress squealed underneath him, but he didn’t care. His head was still spinning. He was about to close his eyes when someone rapped on the window. Charlie sat up, his heart in his throat, and saw a girl looking in through the glass. He stared at her. She glared at him and banged on the pane once more. He got off the bed and unlatched the window. Before he had the chance, she wrenched it open.

“Follow me,” she said. “Polly wants to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? Charlie's now an official member of the Peaky Fooking Blinders, how about that? Also who's the girl??? 0.o
> 
> Next chapter coming soon, I promise!


	3. Polly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie meets his cousin, Joy Younger, and finally catches up with the woman who sent away and brought him back to Birmingham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Get pumped, guys, Polly is here.

And so, Charlie found himself wandering the streets of Birmingham at night, still woozy, at the direction of a strange girl who just so happened to know his great aunt’s name. “Who are you?”

“I’m Joy,” she said. “Lovely to meet you.” She stopped, turned, and stuck out her hand. He shook it. The girl was probably the most cheerful person he’d come across in the city so far. She wore a blue dress, strappy shoes that looked expensive, and a coat that fell just above the grimy cobblestones. Similarly, she seemed to float above the city’s dinginess.

“Yeaj, but are you… Family or something?” He had to check before he started thinking about her being pretty, or anything of the sort. It seemed unlikely. Her skin was a golden brown, and the Shelbys tended to be pale as milk. Still, there must be some reason she knew Polly.

“I’m your cousin,” she said. “My mum would be your aunt.”

Charlie exhaled. “Am I related to everyone in this city?” He smiled, nevertheless. Besides Finn, she was the first relative who didn’t look at him like a rat in a trap.

“No,” she said. “Just the nasty ones.” 

“Will you tell me what’s going on? Because everything about this is fucked. Michael couldn’t care less about me, then all of a sudden he wants me to join the family business. Because I’m a man now, or some bullshit like that. Also, your brother Karl? He’s a prat. And all I know is what Polly’s told me, but now everyone’s telling me she’s gone crazy, and I just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to be here.”

Joy kept walking. “I’m not sure I can give you what you’re looking for,” she said. “Sorry. But maybe Polly can. And I can tell you, she isn’t crazy. I see her now and then, and she’s grand. Well. She does tend to go on about the ghosts, but other than that, she’s sharp as ever.”

“Excellent,” Charlie said. “I feel so much better.”

Joy stopped, and sighed. “I really am sorry.” They stood in silence. “You’re right, though. Karl is definitely a prat.” Charlie laughed, and they kept walking. 

“So,” she said. “You really are Tommy Shelby’s son?”

“As far as I know,” Charlie said. 

“Wow. You know, I never met him, but I heard stories, you know?”

“How he was a crazy murderer who abandoned his family because of some primal gypsy urge to go stick his head in a river?” Charlie snapped.

“I mean… yes,” Joy said. “But also, how he was a genius. And a war hero. My mum says he was the gangster king of London. The Company was in its prime back then, apparently. Now they’re bookmakers. Michael doesn’t have the same knack for strategy, I guess. She’d tell me about him, after she was done calling him a headcase, of course.”

“Right.” Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets.

Joy’s tone softened. “She also told me he was a good man. That he took care of the family. He loved you and your mum.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Charlie-”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t care if he was a genius or a war hero. I don’t care if he was a fucking saint, because he was a shitty dad. He abandoned me. So even if he did love me, I wouldn’t have any way to know, would I? Other than the word of some cousin I’ve only met a few minutes ago. And now he’s probably feeding the grass somewhere, so it really doesn’t matter, does it?”

Joy looked down at her expensive shoes. “I guess not. Sorry for bringing it up. We’re here.” She pointed to one of the houses on the dark lane. “Just knock, she’ll answer.”

Charlie looked at it. It was nicer than the house Michael and the others were staying in, but it had a gloomy air about it. Maybe Polly wasn’t imagining the ghosts, after all. “Joy, I’m sorry,” he said. She had already turned to go. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“It’s fine,” she said. Even so, her voice was icy. “You’ve got plenty to be angry about, don’t you? Good luck.” With that, she disappeared into the night, her heels clack-clacking against the cobblestone.

Charlie shuddered. Suddenly, the night air had become frigid. He wrapped his arms around himself and climbed the steps leading up to Polly’s house. The lawn was shabby, but not entirely overgrown, and the walk had been swept recently. He knocked once on the big wooden door. The second his knuckles tapped wood, the door flew open, and there was Polly. She looked how he remembered her, somehow. Her curly hair was streaked with gray, and it hung around her head like a cloud. Her dark eyes were a bit wide, lined in black, but wary nonetheless. She looked like Polly.

“All right, come inside,” she said, patting him on the back. Charlie stepped forward and gave her room to close the door. “Look at you,” she said, holding him at arm’s length. “Handsome like your father. Scrawny like him, too. And sullen.” She flicked him on the cheek. “Stop scowling.”

“Your house is nicer than theirs,” he sound, looking around.

“Well,” she said, smiling, “Just because they think I’m crazy doesn’t mean they aren’t still scared of me, does it?”

“What’s going on, Polly?’ 

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’d like to know, wouldn’t you? Take a seat in the living room, I’ll brew some tea.” She led him to a room filled with expensive looking furniture. The air was choked with a thick perfume. It was fairly clean, though the corners of the room were thick with dust and cobwebs. Charlie took a seat on the edge of a purple sofa, and Polly went into the kitchen. He heard cabinets opening and closing, and a stove igniting. “How are they treating you?” she said.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m officially a member of the Shelby Company Limited.”

Polly huffed, and came into the sitting room with a steaming mug that smelled strongly of mint. She pushed it into Charlie’s hands and took a seat across from him. “Don’t get excited. Not much of a company now, is it? Michael managed to lose all the influence your father fought tooth and nail for. Back to bookmaking in Birmingham, isn’t it pathetic?”

He shrugged, and took a sip of the tea. It was so minty it was bitter. “Why did you tell me Michael was dead?”

Polly narrowed her eyes. “Because he is dead, far as I’m concerned. He was a sweet boy. The son I knew wasn’t cruel. He cared about people. You cared about you, actually. Saved your life once, did you know that?”

“You said his ghost was following you around.”

“Whatever’s walking around in Michael’s body isn’t him.” She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, then blew a ring of smoke over the coffee table. “I can feel him sometimes. Poor boy. It’s the blood. Something in it’s twisted and evil, and it’s dooming all of us to bitter ends. Sometimes I swear, if you cut open a Shelby, you won’t find blood at all. Just gravedirt, running through our veins.”

Charlie sipped his tea. 

“I’m not crazy,” Polly said. “Don’t listen to what they’re telling you. They want to believe I’m crazy, because it makes it easier to shove me under the bed and forget about me. Doesn’t mean they need me any less, though.” She cackled and shook her head. “Bookmakers in Birmingham… How far we’ve fallen.”

“Right.”

“But you don’t want to hear about that,” Polly said. “How was boarding school?”

“Fine. Good. I think… I’d like to go back there.” Nevermind the boredom, nevermind the restlessness. It was better there. He wasn’t cut out to be a gangster.

Polly gave him a sad smile. “I’d like you to go back, too. That was one good thing I did, sending you there. I felt bad about it. You were so little, and you didn’t want to leave your family behind. But it was for the best.”

“I don’t know about that,” Charlie said. “I just know that that’s where I live. My friends are there. I’m graduating soon.”

“You can’t go back,” She sighed. “Not yet. But I promise you, I’m doing everything I can to change that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Michael will kill you before letting you leave,” Polly said. Charlie noticed that her voice dripped with the same bitterness her son had displayed. They looked similar, in the low light. “He’s a coward and a fool.”

“Why?” Charlie set the half-empty mug down on the coffee table. “Can’t you just give me a straight answer?

Polly sighed, finished her cigarette, and put it out in an ashtray shaped like a cherub. “Rumor has it your father’s coming back to Birmingham.”

Charlie suddenly felt cold. He ran his teeth over his already cracked lower lip. “He’s dead.”

“Apparently not. Some gyspy friends of ours say they’ve seen a man with a striking resemblance to Tommy Shelby, riding towards the city.”

Charlie felt short of breath. He leaned back into the squashy sofa. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You see, our friend Mr. Gray thinks that Tommy’s coming back to reclaim his crown. Michael’s gotten awfully attached to his place as the king of the Shelbys, these past few years. Can’t imagine why.”

“So?”

“So, you’re his son. And Tommy did care about you, contrary to what you may believe. So who would make a better hostage?”

Charlie took a shaky breath, stood up, and started to pace. “I was going to go to university, you know. I’m good in school. I like English. My professor says I could get a scholarship. I was going to go to university, but he had to come here and fuck it all up.”

“Don’t use that kind of language,” Polly snapped. “And don’t blame your father for this. He’s an idiot, sure, but how would he have known this would happen?”

“I wish he’d just stayed away.”

“Maybe it would be easier,” Polly said, her voice gentle. “But like it or not, this is happening. I thought you could ignore your inheritance when I sent you away, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore. Shelby’s a Shelby.”

“You didn’t have to mail that letter.”

“If I didn’t, Michael would’ve. And if you didn’t come, he would’ve brought you here. Calm down, Charlie. You’re going to go to university. Understand? You’ll become an author, or a librarian, or whatever it is you want to be. I’ll pay for your tuition myself. But there’s going to be some complications, before that can happen. But you have to trust me, understand?”

Charlie sat down again. He looked around the room, at the cobwebs and all the portraits. They were all of Polly, he realized. Polly in a gown, Polly on a sofa, Polly posing in front of a fountain. “All right,” he said. “What’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ig Tommy's coming back! oooOoooo. Next chapter's coming as soon as possible, this quarantine is giving me a lot of time to write.
> 
> Please comment your thoughts/predictions/whatever down below, reading comments makes my day

**Author's Note:**

> ... Whew. How was it? Did I achieve the air of mystery I was going for? Comment down below what you think of Karl, what you think is going on with Polly, and what think is going to happen next! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
